


The Nights Always Glow

by alien_wlw



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wine, gay shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22691962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alien_wlw/pseuds/alien_wlw
Summary: Gerard and Frank have a little Oscars viewing party. Feelings are revealed. Late Oscars fluff, and early Valentines sappiness.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	The Nights Always Glow

**Author's Note:**

> I should've had this out the day after the Oscars, but sadly I am an incompetent gay mess who somehow found her way into arts school. Please enjoy.

Frank liked sleeping in. This wasn’t a big secret—in fact, it was more of an unbreakable rule for anyone he lived with. Don’t disturb my sleep, he’d say with a grin. Or I will cut you. He’d never actually cut anyone over sleep, but he had punched, kicked, and bit. He told these tales of sleepy fights with gusto, exaggerating them just a bit. Just a teensy tiny bit.

Maybe that was why he had struggled so hard to find a roommate. “Don’t tell them your sleep stories,” Mikey had said before moving out, off to some fancy college with an even fancier scholarship. “It freaks people out.”

Of course then he absolutely had to. And one by one, the people backed away, never entering his luxurious apartment again. Oh well, Frank would think, drowning in blankets and pastries in the middle of winter. Their loss.

Frank’s roommate-less existence came to an abrupt end in the middle of September, when Mikey surprised called him with an urgent message. “It’s—“ Mikey’s voice caught in his throat, and that’s when Frank knew something was wrong. “Gerard. My brother. You met him last Christmas?”

He didn’t remember much of last Christmas, given how fucking high he’d been, but he said yes anyway. “Super tall, band shirts, black hair?”

“Yeah. He, um, his plan was to stay at my moms for a bit and then move to the city, but things just aren’t happening like that. He needs to be in the city, like, now. This is a huge, huge favor, I know, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise, but would you—“

“I’ll let the kid stay here,” Frank said, as softly as he could. “Long as he needs.”

He knew the reason Gerard was coming. Mikey didn’t need to say it. He heard it in his pauses, in his inhales and exhales. He would miss having the place to himself, of course, but it would be a small sacrifice to make. Frank didn’t expect much to come of it, though. He worked as a teen counselor, and after seeing so many crises, he was oddly immune to the sense that his life was about to change.

Needless to say, Gerard didn’t stay just for a couple of days, or a couple months. He stayed through that impossible September. He stayed through a party-filled October, a cold November and colder December. Not uncharacteristically, he celebrated the new year by shooting an illegal firework off Frank’s balcony. He became an unlikely constant in Frank’s life. Someone to plan around, to prank mercilessly, and surprise with little gifts at the end of the day.  
To everyone’s surprise, Frank wasn’t annoyed by any of it in the slightest. 

It all lead to this, a lazy Sunday morning with a pissed-off Gerard. Frank sat at the kitchen table, reading the news, all while subtly watching Gerard stare at the curtains with bloody murder on his mind.

“Hey, bro you okay?” Frank asked, and tried not to seem too concerned. 

Gerard sighed. “Valentine’s Day,” he announced in a heavy monotone. “It comes for us all.”

And Frank couldn't help but be confused. “It's not that bad,” he said. “Sure, it's super commercialized and shit, but so is every holiday. So is Christmas! And you love Christmas!”

“I—“ Gerard collapsed to the floor, and let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whine. “I just want to be someone's valentine. But I'm not. I'm an art geek that hosts an oscars viewing party for their roommate and no one else.”

Frank shook his head. “You're a cool person who still doesn't know a lot of people in the city. You'll find love, Gee.”

“How would you know?” He still pouted, bottom lip jutting out, and Frank would’ve been lying if he said he didn't find it adorable. “You're a single fucking Pringle, in an empty ass Pringle can, in an abandoned shitty Pringle store, in a left-behind fuckass Pringle town, in a bitchy desolate Pringle country.”

Well. Ouch. “I'm not a hopeless romantic like you or Mikey,” Frank said, and glanced back down at the paper. “I know my limits.”

Then, without hesitation, Gerard walked over to him, and climbed atop the kitchen table. There were weak rays of sunlight shooting through the window already, and they only served to illuminate Gerard’s pale face and dark hair. Frank pretended to be interested in the sports section. He wouldn’t, no he couldn’t, be caught staring.

“Frankie, my darling Frankie,” Gerard said, his voice like bittersweet honey. “Will you be my valentine?”

And Frank blushed, but refused to look up. “Thought you hated Valentine’s.”

“Do I contradict myself?” Being who he was, Gerard spread his arms. “Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large—I contain multitudes.”

Frank gave a slight smile. “Surprised you know Whitman.” 

All he got in return was a confused look. “I saw that quote in a meme, but ok.” 

Tucked inside the uneasy yet comfortable atmosphere, Frank found a neat little pocket of silence. It didn’t take long to ruin it. “Oh, and to answer your question, no I won’t be your valentine.”

Gerard pretended to be heartbroken, and clutched his chest. “Typical,” he said in a tone that reeked of soap operas and tv dramas. “Older men never have time for young beauties such as I.”

“I-I’m four years older than you, Gee. Not a fucking dinosaur.”

It made no difference. Gerard gripped the tile, and lay down, his head now lying on the paper in Frank's hands. It was impossible not to stare. Impossible not to get lost in the curves of Gerard’s face, the little blemishes and bits of stubble. The parts that caked-on makeup didn’t cover. “Mm.” Gerard hummed. “Prediction for best picture?”

Thank god Frank had practice in pretending he wasn't obsessed. “1917 probably. I liked Once a Upon A Time better, but the Oscars fucking love war movies.”

“Yeah.” Gerard picked at his sleeve. “They do.”

Before Frank could do something stupid, like lean in, Gerard sat up. He got off the counter in one smooth motion, and headed to the living room. Of course he did. The movie junkie wanted all the red carpet footage he could get.

A party. Another stupid little party. Muddled thoughts. The world divided itself into cliques and loners, and it was all so insufferably typical. So high-school-never-ends. So let’s-ascend-to-a-higher-tier. Still, better a part of than not. Better to wallow in the smoke than never get a taste.

Frank Iero was high as hell.

Frank Iero was high as hell, back against the wall.

Frank Iero was high as hell, back against the wall and fingers feeling numb.

There Mikey was, above him. He shouted. About something. Probably nothing. Maybe just a weird thing that happened to him. Lots of weird stuff was going on right now, and it felt reasonable to shout. Smart, even.

A few words cut through the dizziness. “—Fucking my brother!—“

Then Frank understood. Oh no, this was all a misunderstanding, all a snatch of silly little lies, he could fix it. He could fix it. “I’m not…” Stones on his tongue. “Nope…not…doing that…”

Fabric against palms. Heartbeats. Shouts haunted the walls. Secondhand screams. Peaceful, it was peaceful like this. Frank wasn’t sure what the fuss was about as he sunk, his spine hit ground and eyes fixed themselves to some poetic cracks on the ceiling. Parties weren’t bad—it was the aftershock that was truly awful. The knowledge that you had to clean your mess up. You had to be responsible. A real boy. Pinocchio. Or else you would die.

“You’re fucking wasted. Oh my god.” 

He felt himself be hoisted up. Clear blue eyes. “Just…” Mikey’s signature angsty sigh. “One question, then I’ll take you home. Are you fucking my brother, or not?”

Frank shook his head.

“Okay…good. Keep it that way. Please.” 

And yet, there Gerard was. Sitting on the other side of the couch, and Frank couldn’t possibly want him more. At least he could distract himself temporarily with handmade popcorn and whatever the hell Natalie’s robe was (“lip service,” Gerard scoffed). 

“See—“ Frank said, shoving a handful of m&m’s in his mouth. “I just don’t get it. Why are the Oscars so respected?”

Gerard licked his lips. “Yeah. It’s the age, I guess. They’ve been doing this for a while, so like, bam. Prestige.”

The celebrities were talking with plasticky smiles. One after another. Frank found it rather boring, but Gerard couldn’t look away. “See that’s stupid. My grandpa’s older than the Oscars, and he doesn’t know shit.”

They let the tin of interviews drown their own thoughts out for a moment, before Gerard turned to Frank with a grin. “Say…”

“Oh, god, whatever you’re thinking—“ Then, Gerard reached into a little slit in the couch, and pulled out a bottle of wine. He held it aloft, and enjoyed the subsequent look of terror on Frank’s face.

“Look, it’s a party, okay?” Gerard said. “Let’s drink a little. I’m legal.”

“You. Have. No. Tolerance. You’ll most likely do something stupid, and then you’re gonna blame me.” And so will Mikey, Frank added silently.

His words fell on deaf ears. Hell, a man who snuck wine into a couch was not to be dissuaded. Tilting the bottle back in order to form a dramatic pose, Gerard let the liquor flow onto his lips. “Mm. Tasty alchy.”

“Gee—“ Oh, fuck it. Frank reached for the bottle. “Come on. You should have some food with that.”

“I have popcorn!” he shouted, evidently already a little hazy. His eyes were not quite focussed, and Frank took a quick sip before stashing the wine away.

On screen, the Oscars were beginning. Janelle Monae, slinking around the stage with a silver voice. Laughter and clapping, laughter and clapping. Frank couldn’t care less. Because Gerard had scooted past the popcorn bowl, and was now sitting right next to him. Their thighs touched, and Frank felt like a fucking teenager. Losing his breath over a hot boy crush acknowledging him in the hallway. 

Still, it didn’t mean anything. Gerard was tipsy, not infatuated. Even when he swung a hand over to grip at Frank’s arm, it didn’t mean anything. Even when he pressed a sloppy kiss to Frank’s cheek, it didn’t mean anything. Even when he sat down in Frank’s lap, letting out a content hum, it didn’t mean anything. Frank remained immoveable, refusing to give in. 

They stayed like that, softly intertwined, for a little longer than they should. It was just barely innocent, just barely something Frank could deny. Not to mention, it felt good to hold Gerard in his arms, to feel warm skin pressed against his own. It feels nice, that’s all, he told himself as the ads unfolded, one after the other. 

Then Gerard began talking, in that tired, half-asleep way of his. “You’re my bestest friend. F-w-e-n-d. Frankie. You know that?”

Frank laughed. “Yeah, I do. Hey, you getting kinda sleepy?”

“What?” Gerard’s eyes shot open. “Never! It’s the biggest fucking night in music history, I could never…would be bad.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that too. Gerard wasn’t a sad drunk, thank god. Just a mildly funny one. “‘Music’ history?”

“Oh—“ Gerard pawed at his chest, fingers resting on nothing. “Fuck you. No. Bad person. You’re a bad person Frankie. And I don’t like you.”

Now it was Frank’s turn to gasp and clutch his chest. “Really? I’m hurt.”

But instead of answering, Gerard fell silent. He closed his eyes, even as he faced the tv. Behind his eyelids, Frank could see movement. Flutters. He would never really know what was going on in that boy’s head. No matter what he said while drunk.

Then, a stilted inhale. “Frankie…I never…” 

“What?” Frank asked. He prayed it was just another stupid little joke. Just one more stupid joke. Please.

“Mm. You don’t know why I’m here…you’ve lived with me for so, so long, and you don’t know why I left…” Gerard’s head on his shoulder, his messy hair tickling his neck. Gerard’s soft stomach right against his own. Listening to the other man breathe. The screen, talking about money and products. The world, spinning.

Frank sighed. “I know, Gee. I knew from the start.”

“You—“ Gerard hesitantly looked up, and now they were just way too close. “You know about my mom, about her finding me with—“

“I knew.” It’s not easy to hide a homophobic family. When a person’s mind is polluted, it seeps out. Especially in the trauma of those around them.

But Gerard didn’t look traumatized right now. He didn’t look sad, or angry, or anywhere in between. He looked just a bit shocked. Like Frank had caught him in between actual emotion. “Oh.”

That’s when Frank knew he needed to leave.

He got up in one quick motion, and muttered a simple apology to Gerard. “Gotta—gotta take a nap. Sorry.”

Gerard just lay there, limbs spread against the sofa. “But…”

“Sorry.”

Back to the night at the party where Mikey begged Frank not to fall in love. Back to the stupid hipster banter and confetti canons. Back to Frank, being carried home by a man with huge hair and a Harry Potter t-shirt. It was a full moon, because of course it was.

Ray stopped at the intersection. If Mikey was half as reliable as he said he was, he’d be here in no time. Then, the regular bedside Advil and water treatment. It was all just part of October. 

Frank groaned in his arms. Ray frowned. “Go back to sleep, little dude. It’s like, gonna be so much harder if you’re awake now. This part’s the worst.”

“Oh, fuck you.“ Another groan, another struggle to escape. “I fucking know my own fucking body, and I’m kind of in fucking love with my motherfucking roommate, so if you would just—“

“Woah. Back up there, pal. And maybe cool it with the f-bombs.” Against his better judgment, Ray let Frank sit down on the curb.

A very out-of-it Frank put his head in his hands. Sirens in the distance. Sound and light, colliding. “There’s just so much shit going on right now. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t fuck you up with my own fucked up shit, it’s not—“

“Hey.” Ray put his arms around Frank, while his eyes focussed on the road. “First of all, maybe step off that big old swear-horse. Second of all, there’s nothing inherently effed up or crappy about being in love. Love is choosing to care about a person, and that’s really rather beautiful. So don’t feel bad about your love. No matter why you have to hide it. Unless it’s like, I don’t know, abusive. Then again, nah. Abusive love isn’t real love, it’s just weird. I stand by what I said.”

Frank couldn’t help it—he sniffed. “T-thanks dude.”

“Name’s Ray. Let’s wait here until Mikey comes, okay? Then you can go to bed, and get a good night’s sleep. Sounds like you need it.”

He actually runs all the way to his room. After regretfully slamming the door shut, he collapses on the bed, intending to sleep until the next century. Oh, god it was all getting too much for him. At least here, I am safe, Frank thought. Gerard knows the rules. He heard my sleep stories, same as everyone else. Not to mention, he’s not an idiot. I am safe here. I am safe here, I am safe here, I am safe here, I am safe here.

From what? From trouble, that’s what. As he felt the pillow welcome his tired head, Frank felt comforted by the thought that he could hide. Even just for a moment.

Soon, out of his unconscious brain, images began to take shape. Fragments really, but important nonetheless. He was standing on a dirt road, a blunt between his fingers. A car was approaching. Not fast—it was taking it’s time. Winding down the gravel road. Still, he stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground, staring ahead. He could move. But he chose not to. He chose to let the car come closer and closer. He was bored. His dream self was bored. So it stood there, legs slowly turning into—

“Oh my god, oh my god, Frank wake up!”

Frank’s eyes shot open, and his fist punched forward. It met air, nothing more. A few inches away was Gerard, glorious Gerard, sitting in his lap. Gerard was glowing in every sense of the word. Cheeks flushed. Shining. Sitting in his lap. Wait.

“What the fuck?” Frank scrambled away, and sat on the opposite side of the bed. His bed. Gerard had never been in his bed before. 

He looked so gorgeous in the dim light.

None of this seemed to be going through Gerard’s head. “Parasite won best fucking picture!” he screamed. “Oh my god, this is so historical, like, do you have any idea? I can’t believe it, I really can’t. This is actually the best moment of my entire life, I swear to—“

Frank kissed him. 

He leaned forward, and kissed him.

Gerard just melted into it, grabbing the sides of Frank’s face and forcing himself closer. Frank’s heart was beating so fast, he couldn’t get a proper breath. But he didn’t want to breathe. He wanted to keep kissing Gerard, maybe forever. Forever was a childish word, but he was feeling childish right now. Childish and stupid.

He’d just fucked up spectacularly. But he didn’t care.

As they sunk into the mattress, Gerard took a moment to gasp for air. “Took—took you long enough.”

Frank kissed him again. “Worth it,” he whispered into crevice in Gerard’s neck. God it was nice to feel Gerard’s body against him and not worry about touching him. “So fucking worth it.”

“Yeah,” Gerard let out a little laugh, and clutched at Frank’s wrists. “I’m—I’m not that tipsy, you know. I just, I might’ve faked it a little. So I could be closer to you, I just wanted to be—“

Another kiss. Dry and sweet. “Want to be close to you too,” Frank mumbled into it. Heaven, he decided right then and there, was inching a hand along Gerard Way’s neck and feeling him arch into the touch.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?” He could hear a bit of worry in Gee’s voice, and for a second he wondered if this was all some wonderful dream.

Still, he looked into the man’s eyes as he spoke. “Will you, um, will you be my Valentine?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “‘Course I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are super cool but mainly I just want my fren Ryan to be happy cause she deserves it :)


End file.
